


coming home to you

by keycchan



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, a whole lot of internal monologue/dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keycchan/pseuds/keycchan
Summary: Always wanted to tell you the truth: t’was me who keeps stealing Ellie’s tarberry juice. I admit it! I plead guilty, spare me some mercy, officer.prompt: things you always meant to say but never got the chance.





	coming home to you

Deacon’s first thought is,  _we’re not gonna live through this one._

A scream echoes among the gunfire, echoing louder than thunder and ear-shattering. He sees Glory fall first. The rhythm of her machine gun, loud and relentless as she is, whirring to a stop when Brotherhood bullets go through her in a flurry of blood and lead. She doesn’t get to say anything, doesn’t get to scream — and  _god_ , Deacon wants to scream, he just wants to scream and run, thanks very much — but she goes down all the same, light leaving her eyes before her body even hits the ground, and Deacon barely manages to evade a soldier that peeks around his hidey-hole.

They’d descended out of nowhere. He doesn’t know how — the Brotherhood is about as subtle and quiet as a deathclaw in a room of tin cans and glass and about half as smart, but somehow,  _somehow_ , the one time they’d managed had to be now. By the time anyone’d noticed the sound of metal tromping down their supposedly secure tunnel, the bullets already started to fire. Raining Brotherhood hell and bullets, and suddenly there was a whole lot more yelling and screaming than Deacon’s heard in  _years_.

 _Just like the Switchboard_ , he wants to laugh, delirious and not quite there,  _except this is all we got left!_

Bullets narrowly miss his face, and his heartbeat leaps to his throat, pulse racing like a brahmin with bloodflies going after it. The image of it makes him want to laugh. Everything, right now, does, because it’s all the Switchboard again, or even the slaughter before that, except this time there’s really nowhere to go, and this is all they’ve got left.  _Fucking fantastic._ This is everything, everyone, and by the time he hears shooting in their escape tunnel, his mouth is sticky and he’s shaking, shaking, shaking.  _Of course they found the escape tunnel. Like shooting fish in a barrel._

The dread’s been coiling in his gut, ever since the Sole Survivor of Vault 111 had crawled out with cold fire burning in her eyes. Ruthless efficiency and a complete lack of mercy or morals. He’d watched, gathered intel, as she rose to power — she had the looks, the intellect, and just enough charm and efficiency to rise in Brotherhood hierarchy. Had seen the ripple-waves she’d created through the Commonwealth. When news came that Maxson was dead and a new elder was named, the dread in Deacon’s gut  _settled._

And here it is. At it’s fruition, at it’s peak, and it’s right at their doom.  _Insert something Shakespearian about our death and our inevitable doom here_ , his mind helpfully supplies, and his hands are shaking when he takes out another Brotherhood soldier. But for every soldier that falls, three agents die, and they really don’t have that many to spare. His bullets barely dent Brotherhood armour, and a stray gunshot catches in the thick of Deacon’s calf, and he barely stumbles to safety as the blood patch spreads. He watches as agent Sunny’s brains get blown out, and he spares a second to squeeze his eyes shut, feels moisture running down his cheeks.

Among the chaos around them, louder than anything Deacon’s ever heard, his mind suddenly goes quiet, and he thinks,  _Nick’s gonna be so pissed_.

Another yell. Deacon watches Carrington whip out his rifle, watches those careful hands stay as stable as they ever are. Watches as twenty bullets lodge themselves into Carrington’s chest before he can even pull the trigger. Deacon feels his chest turn to ice, and he barely manages to dart behind a pile of bricks that shelter him from bulletfire. He takes Carrington’s gun, and shoots —

( Nick’d told him to be careful. Always did, paired up with the usual goodbyes. Last time, it was back in Diamond City, where Deacon had snatched the opportunity to talk to Arturo and spend a day or two with Nick at the same time. He could only afford to stay just one night, in the end — but that’s how things always have been, it’s just how the Railroad works. Nick’s never blamed him for it, not in all their years of being together and knowing each other. Only ever welcomed him into his home with a warm smile and a welcome home. )

 _Wish I could make it home to you this time, Valentine,_  Deacon thinks, another bullet catching in his arm and making aiming unsteadier. He watches Tinker Tom scream and aim his plasma pistol at a soldier’s head, taking out one before another swings a giant metal fist at him, catching in the soft meat of his neck, and another soldier fires enough bullets to turn Tom’s head into a meaty little pulp. Deacon’s stomach  _squeezes_ , and his eyes clamp shut.

He sees Nick, and takes a steadying breath before leaning out and aiming for another soldier.

(  _Be careful, sweetheart. Be safe.,_  Nick’d last said to him. Curled up together in bed, just talking, like they always do when they can make time. Nick had a hand on his side, Deacon remembers — guy always liked running the metal of his fingers down there, said he could find plenty of eternity in the dip of Deacon’s spine, what a  _sap_  — and Deacon remembers snorting, kissing Nick’s jaw.  _Not like I try not to be, Valentine._

 _See, the way you usually act in a gunfight, I have my doubts about that._  Nick had smirked. Deacon remembers waggling his brows.

 _You know you love me,_ he’d said.

And Nick had only smiled, smiled like nothing could go wrong, like the sun shone out of Deacon’s ass or something, smiled like things were going to be okay and so,  _so_  in love, made Deacon melt, just a little inside, made him think  _forever, wish i could spend forever with you, Valentine,_  and Nick had kissed him like the world stopped just for the two of ‘em, and he’d said  _you know I do_  — )

_I love you._

Now there’s a million cap phrase Deacon wishes he had more time to say. Especially now, with the Brotherhood definitely about to kill them, another bullet catching in Deacon’s leg —  _same one too_ , damn it, that’s just unfair — but if he had to be honest, that’s one thing he’s had no regrets about. Learnt years ago, back when he and Nick were still new, still figuring each other out, how much it meant to keep saying it. How much it  _mattered_ , because Nick’s a saint who just  _has_  to save everyone who asks for it in the Commonwealth, and Deacon’s a Railroad agent, and that means ticking clocks for both of them. Never knowing when each time would be the last.

( For once, Deacon wishes he were wrong about that. Wishes, just this once, that he were completely wrong, that their worry about those words would only ever just be worries, but here he is with a soldier over his back —)

But he does wish there were more. Of course. No doubt that he has some regrets, and more than that, he wishes he had more time. More time, just to see Nick. Just to say a lot more things to him, things he’s always meant to say, even things he’s already said. Deacon’s a man of a thousand words, and he still has so much to say, so much to tell Nick. A couple of years just isn’t  _fucking enough_ , but his end is staring at him in the face and there’s still so much time he hasn’t caught up with yet.

( He watches Desdemona go down with a single well-placed shot to the head. She hits the floor with a dead thump, and Deacon feels his heart in his throat — )

 _Always wanted to tell you the truth: t’was me who keeps stealing Ellie’s tarberry juice. I admit it! I plead guilty, spare me some mercy, officer_ , Deacon tells his head-Nick, in absence of the real one. Things move easier, when Deacon can pretend Nick’s hand is on his shoulder, warm glowing eyes focused on him.  _Also wanted to tell you that I totally stole your detective coat one time for an undercover mission. It was super cool. How come you get to wear the coat huh?_

( A soldier catches Tims right in the gut. Deacon takes the soldier down, and Tims gurgles his last breath. )

 _Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen. Just thought you should know. Like a beacon in the dark. Too cheesy? No? Hey, cut me some slack, I’m a little close to dying here, let a man have his sap, don’t judge me._  He laughs, internally. Somewhere, he can almost hear Nick reply,  _well don’t judge me for it either then, I’m a sentimental old fool._

 _I know you are_ , Deacon replies back, as another bullet renders his leg useless and bleeding, bleeding, he’s losing quite a lot a blood here,  _one of the like, thousands of reasons of why I love you. Thousands! Probably hundreds of thousands. Millions. Look at you, making me count that high, you unreasonable man. Don’t know why I love a guy who’s making me do math while I’m getting shot at. That’s just not fair._

( His vision’s starting to tilt. His leg is a whole lot of red, his aim’s shot, and he’s stumbling. There’s still more Brotherhood soldiers. He presses himself hard enough against the brick wall that it digs into his skin, and he  _laughs_  — )

 _Never laughed more than when I was with you, Nick. Should think of opening a comedy club at the Third Rail, Hancock would be_ so _down with that. Your whole act could be a lot of witty one liners. Hey, what’d you say to that guy, that one time we found Vault 81? The one that was like, ‘hey, what’s that thing doing here’?_

 _I said, ‘is that what your parents used to say to you’?_   His Nick replies, in his mind. Deacon can see him, crouched next to him. Close, calming, smiling.

Deacon laughs, laboured even in his own head.  _Fuck, yeah, that’s exactly what you said, you witty asshole_.

( Drummer Boy barely shoots before he gets thrown against a wall, and shot until he doesn’t get back up again. Deacon’s chest is tight. A part of him thinks it’s like this all over again, like the Switchboard, or even before, where he’s the last to survive — but another part of him, a bigger part, tells him that this time, he won’t be spared.

He feels the barrel of a gun pressed to his back. And — )

_I don’t regret joining the Railroad, you know. Not for a damn second. Not once._

_I know you didn’t. Neither did I._  Head-Nick replies. Touches Deacon’s shoulder, and Deacon can almost pretend he feels it.

_It’s good work, we’ve done. A whole lot of it. Freeing those who have to, building a better Commonwealth, you know what it says in the brochure. All of that. We helped a lot of people, and even after we’re gone, all those people we’ve saved are gonna remember that. Gonna pay it forwards, somehow, I don’t know. You know. You’re like, the shining statue of kindness. What a guy._

Head-Nick smiles. Kind of in a sad way.

(  — he feels it, like an ice-cold trail ripping through flesh and bone. The bullet goes cleanly through, grazes his ribs, past his heart, and the second one takes all the air out of his lungs. He’s the last one to fall. )

_Don’t ever regret meeting you either. Or liking you. Loving you. Not a second, not once. I’ll be honest here, and you know how scarce a commodity that is around the ol’ beacon Deacon — you, you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I’m serious. The other best thing was when I discovered Takahashi’s noodles, but the biggest honour is that I’m putting you above all that. And you know how much I like Taka’s noodles._

Head-Nick laughs, sitting by his side, on the floor.

( The dust tickles Deacon’s nose, but he doesn’t feel much like moving, right now. )

 _I’m sorry. Wish I could’ve stuck around to say all that to you in person. Wish I could’ve done a lot of things. You know, I’ve thought a lot about marrying you. It’s the truth, hey! I’d even wear the whole pretty white dress and everything, if I could scrounge up the caps to pay Becky. Or we could elope or something, find some island paradise somewhere where the radiation hasn’t touched. We’ll build a hut, maybe raise whatever animals we find. That’d be the good life. Or even just staying with you in Diamond City. I’d be okay with that. Better than okay_.

_Nick, I wish I could come home to you._

( His mouth tastes like metal, wet and sticky, and where did his shades go? Probably lost in the firefight. Not that it makes much of a difference. He hears Brotherhood soldiers vacate the room, and Deacon’s vision is starting to tunnel.

Is that the light? )

_I don’t want to die. Wanna live. Wanna show up on your doorstep, want to hear you go ‘cripes, doll, what the hell happened to you’? Promise, I wouldn’t even try to laugh it off. Or walk it off. Remember that last time I did and I faceplanted on your desk? Yikes. Nick, gotta hand it to you, your choice in lovers isn’t exactly first-class. I’m not judging though. I’m absolutely down with it._

( Things are so bright, all of a sudden. )

_God, I’m a mess. Crying, bleeding, there’s a whole lot of bodily fluids going on right now that shouldn’t be, but not a whole lot I can do about it now._

_My time’s up, Valentine. Wish I could’ve spent a lot more of it with you. Wish I could’ve made a home with you, a proper one, swear to God, it would’ve been great. Wish I could’ve grown old with you. That would’ve been nice, right? I think so. Valentine, Valentine, you always had my heart, you sneak. Hope you know that. Hope you do._

_I’m real tired, Nick. Wish I could just sleep with you in your bed._

( He sees everyone on the other side. Every friend he’s ever lost, every family member, everyone that’d fallen before him. He sees Desdemona’s smile again, the rare one that shines like the sun after a cloudy day. He hears Tom’s laugh on the other side. A chorus of friends he’d lost, somewhere in there he swears he even hears his oldest friend, Barbara, she’s somewhere in there, Tommy Whispers waiting on the other side— )

_I love you._

_Wish I could say goodbye._

( High Rise is smiling down at him, hand outstretched.  _Always late to the party. Finally joining us, brother?_

And Deacon laughs, even with his eyes falling heavy.

 _Yeah. I am._  )

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Relax, Nick. He’s fine. Probably off doing one of those stupid, daring things he always does.” Ellie says, all soft eyes and low, gentle voices.

Nick finds himself snorting, half amused and mostly unconvinced. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about, Ellie.”

Ellie only rolls her eyes, but goodnaturedly. Pats his shoulder kindly while she picks up some files to organize. Nick just feels that same nagging feeling in his chest, as he leans back in his chair, hand fiddling with a cigarette, anxiously. The worry’s been clawin’ in his gut since the day before. A bad feeling. He wishes he knew what it was. He wishes  — 

A pummel of rapidfire, panicky knocks at the door makes Ellie jump, and himself startle. Ellie’s got the door before he even gets to his feet, though, but they both look through.

Arturo stands, looking frayed at the edges. Eyes red, hands trembling, holding what looks like a holotape in his hands.

The dread in Nick’s gut solidifies.

“I — I just received word from Amari, I — “ a shaking breath. Arturo, crying. 

“I am so, so sorry.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> yet another prompt request! requested by an anon over on tumbles. find the [original prompt here.](http://keycchan.tumblr.com/post/161263696230/prompts-1-things-you-said-at-1-am-2-things)
> 
> sssorry not sorry? i was stuck on this for awhile. got to finishing it around 6am. i apologize for any mistakes, this is unbeta'd and largely un-proofread lmfkshjf  
> to clarify, the sole survivor in this story is Yana, my chaotic evil aligned SS who follows the brotherhood path, unlike Lamb (who's appeared in my other deacon/nick things) my chaotic neutral who inititally joins the railroad and then ends with the institute.
> 
> every kudos and comment you leave heals a tiny bit of my cold dead heart.


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